Inescapable
by slayn-angel
Summary: Never had he imagined that the girl he had thrown all his hate and stress at would be sitting there, once again the recipient of his bottled up emotions. It was the same as the past five years had been, and yet it was so ironically different. HDr  HBP Au
1. Chapter 1

My first real fanfiction in almost six years. It's set during the Half Blood Prince, but I changed a situation or two and set it in a light where Dramione is possible. Because frankly, I feel as if these scenes could've easily happened. Enjoy!

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><p><strong><em>Existentialism: We are thrown into existence first without a predetermined nature and only later do we construct our nature or essence through our actions<em>**

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><p>Draco stepped into the Manor weakly, his left arm searing in pain, and the only thing that kept him from releasing the cries of anguish was Bellatrix's knowing and smug look at his suffering, and his mother's look of concern and fear.<p>

"Well done,_ Draco_" his aunt whispered in his ear, and his scowl deepened. "Your initiation went _rather well_ didn't it, what with your father's _incompetence_ recently."

A ball of rage and shame built up within Draco. His father, the man he had respected most in the world had brought the Malfoy name to this pathetic mess that that the Death Eaters _laughed at_ now. And while Draco had tried to keep a face of impassiveness throughout the whole ceremony, he had felt the Dark Lord probing around in his mind, laughing at his deep seated fears.

"Boy, you don't wish to be one of us, you _fear_ our cause?" He had laughed at Draco.

"No, my Lord, I am humbled to be in your presence." It was a line so repeated that it was second nature to him to speak it with a tone of flattery.

Though Voldemort saw through the obvious lie, he had not said anything else. "_Draco,_ I have a _task for you._ To redeem your father's _failures."_ Draco's breath had hitched, and he could faintly hear Narcissa's gasp beside him as he was told what to do.

"Bellatrix, I'm going to tell Severus. He needs to help, he _will_ help Draco." Narcissa said in a frightened tone.

"_What?_ You heard the Dark Lord Cissy, you _must not tell **anybody**_,especially not _him_." But his mother had already left the manor, and Bellatrix soon followed after her.

Draco stared emptily at the large and unoccupied room as he finally allowed his strangled sobs out. He didn't have enough energy to follow his mother or object her actions to keep up pretenses, because in the back of his mind, he knew he wanted Snape there, he knew he couldn't complete this task. He knew he was trapped.

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><p><em>Step 1: Essence<em>

"Oh, _yea_, the _Slug Club_" Ron sneered, and Hermione recoiled at the malevolence his tone presented. "I had _forgotten_ about that little thing, the parties you enjoy _so much._ Well I hope you have fun at the _stupid_ Christmas party, because-"

"I was _going _to ask _you_ Ron." Hermione interrupted, her voice rather lack of emotion, her annoyed and somewhat offended feelings thinly veiled beneath her pursed lips. Harry shifted awkwardly as he continued to smash at the pod they were currently working with in Herbology, wishing he was anywhere else but there at the moment.

"Oh" whispered Ron. An awkward silence ensued, and Harry sighed as Ron and Hermione coughed and resumed their work and joined him.

"It says you're supposed to stab it with something _sharp_ Harry, here let me." Harry didn't even bother contributing to the conversation or asking Hermione if she needed any help. He knew she would figure it out; this was a routine that the trio had perfected over the years. And it seemed that Ron and Hermione's, _thing_ recently was going to mess everything up.

He thought back to his worries about them getting together as a couple. If they broke up, his friendship with them would be hell, and if they didn't, he could encounter a similar problem in the opposite extreme. He frowned in consternation at the thought of their deep rooted friendship collapsing over teenage feelings of infatuation. No, he certainly didn't like where this was going. But this problem wasn't his greatest of worries right now.

There was something bigger, _Malfoy._

It annoyed him to no ends that both Ron and Hermione wouldn't believe the fact that Draco Malfoy could be a Death Eater. The family he had grown up in, his _father,_ for God's sake.

But as Hermione had put it, "Harry, Draco Malfoy may be a right git, but that's all he is. He's a bully, and he knows no better than to spew out insults his family and society has taught him to. He may be unpleasant and vile, but he's _not_ a Death Eater. I refuse to believe otherwise until I see him killing people and see him embrace the mark."

He knew she phrased it that way because they all knew, Draco Malfoy was too much of a coward to ever _kill_ people. Even Harry knew that he may be conniving to get what he wants-

_"My **father** will hear about this!"_

- but he never really did anything past spying and taunting. To suggest that he was participating in Death Eater activities, running around with the dark mark and killing muggles and muggleborns, it was almost laughable. But though he could never picture Malfoy past the bully he was at school, he just _knew._

_There was something_.

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><p>Hermione strolled down the corridor and away from the library, her transfiguration homework done for the night, and she headed towards the Gryffindor common room, deep in thought. Just last week, she and Ron had been getting along so well, and she thought that things were finally <em>going<em> somewhere. But two nights ago, Ginny had come storming into the common room, red faced and anger bubbling off of her, muttering dark words about her idiotic brother and his nosiness, and Hermione watched in concern as she passed.

Since then, Ron had been acting rather cold, distant and rude to her. She could only wonder how much longer she could take before she snapped. She always eventually did. He would always fall into one of his moods, never tell her what it was about, and she would be left to wonder if she had done something wrong or if he was just being a rather idiotic boy as per usual.

She recalled merely chatting with Ernie about Potions and then coming to join the boys at the table when she had been assaulted by Ron's scathing words. "Where've you been off to? Chasing boys, helping them with their _homework_ to find an excuse to go and snog them? What, is _Ernie_ your new _boyfriend_? Wow Hermione, that's an all time low, _even for you_." Hermione had been so offended at Ron's rather random lashing that she had picked up her mug of pumpkin juice and thrown it at his face, storming off. Even Harry had been rather disturbed by that outburst, and though he knew that Ron was just venting out his stress from Quidditch practices, class, and the new found, and rather irrational, jealousy of Viktor Krum, he had stood up as well, leaving Ron to deal with the laughter of the Gryffindor table at his drenched clothes by himself.

It was not unusual to find Hermione and Ron banter like this occasionally, with an odd hex or two fired (usually in Ron's way), or in this case, pumpkin juice. But recently, Ron's hateful behavior had become unrestrained, and Harry could see the jealous monster within Ron roar, raging its head towards the source of its existence. And as the monster grew, Hermione's presence diminished. While Harry knew what he was dealing with, Hermione didn't, and Ron's rather unexplainable behavior was off putting, and though she longed to be with her boys and chat like usual, it was becoming rather difficult to do so.

Harry did try to go to the library as often as he could to hang out with Hermione just as much as he did with Ron, but he found that the deafening silence of the massive room along with the bony and condescending Madam Pince tended to rush him out under an hour. Hermione understood, for at least he tried. While she could become so absorbed in a book that nothing else would matter, Harry was not like that, and she always accepted his half baked excuses he came up with as he rushed off when he studied with her in the library.

Hermione was getting sick of this separation though. Tomorrow was the big Quidditch game, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, and even she was rather excited. She would put this spat of theirs behind her, she decided. She would go and cheer Harry and Ron and encourage them like usual, and maybe this whole incident will all blow over.

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><p>It was after the Quidditch game, and Hermione stood at the corner of the common room as the whole house celebrated.<p>

"Weasley is our King" the chant continued. She had stormed off this morning when she had found out about felix felicis, and then she and Ron had again gotten into a fight when Harry had told them the truth. She crossed her arms as she watched Ron in the center of the room, his face bright with happiness and accomplishment, and her heart ached. She just wished that he would get over everything, that maybe they could go back to what they had the week before, and she took a hesitant step towards him-

The whole crowd in the room cheered as Lavender crashed her face into Ron's and he started reciprocating. Hermione tried to ignore the lump that rose in her throat, but she couldn't stop the tears the formed in her eyes. Whipping around, she shoved past people to the exit, rushing out of the suddenly stuffy room into the cold rush of the corridors.

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><p>"Oppugno!" she sobbed out before she slammed the door behind her, not waiting to see Ron's or Harry's reactions. She was sobbing freely now, and her first reaction was to turn towards the Gryffindor dorms to go straight to bed. But the thought of the party, the people, and the crowd probably still gossipping over the Keeper and his new <em>girlfriend <em>kept her away_._

Hermione felt like retching just then. Instead of heading back, she turned the opposite direction, heading towards the moving staircases. She knew the perfect location to vent out her feelings in isolation and peace. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, her thoughts all fallen to the depression of Hell, tinged with the cynical poison of rejection and spite. She knew that it was wrong, but she would get back at Ron, she would show him that he meant nothing to her, _nothing. _He had gone too far this time, and she was not going to stand for it.

The Christmas party, that was it. She was obviously not taking Ron now, she couldn't even stand being in the same room as him at the moment. Who would spite him the most? Cormac McLaggen was first to come into mind. _Yes_. she thought, _he would do._ Her mind spun in different directions, thinking of the best way to annoy him, to show she was better than the sobbing mess that he had reduced her to.

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><p>Sneaking around on the seventh floor during these hours was forbidden, even for a prefect such as herself, so she creeped carefully down the hall, watching for Filch's shadow or Mrs. Norris's purrs. She wished she had asked to borrow Harry's cloak, but she was close, it was just around the corner. Picking up her pace at the thought of reaching her destination, she turned quickly, her small body almost running into a tall and thin chest.<p>

Her mind screeched at her to stop, and her feet halted, mere inches away from the thin body of, she glanced up, _Malfoy._ She gasped as she saw his pale face, scrunched up into a sneer. Vaguely, she recognized that the room of requirement was closing itself a few meters behind him, and she curiously glanced past his shoulder to see its current form. Malfoy however, moved just then, blocking her view as the room completely closed.

She narrowed her red rimmed eyes up at him, glaring suspiciously. While it was true that lately, the whole of sixth year so far in fact, Malfoy had not insulted or bullied her, had not said a word to her in fact, Harry's recent trepidation of him and his recent and rather dodgy visit to Borgin and Burkes placed her on edge, her senses warning her to be ready to take out her wand at any given moment.

A few tense seconds followed as both waited for the other to move, to say something. She studied him carefully, having not seen him this close up in a long while, and she noticed his pale and withered complexion and his rather tortured looking eyes, appearing as if he had not bothered to give them a proper rest in a while. She stood stock still as his eyes shifted from her face to her hand slowly reaching for her wand, then to a far off distance. Hermione could tell that he was not paying attention to her anymore, and he stood almost like a Grecian statue, his face frozen in a distant stare, his body stiff in posture. Carefully taking a step back to ease the uncomfortable situation, Hermione cleared her throat softly.

Finally snapping out of his reverie, he glared down at her warily, his hands clenching into fists and his lips pursing into a thin line. Without saying a word, he sidestepped and walked past her, his quick strides urgent and hurried. Hermione stood for a second in shock before a thought struck her and she whirled around to face his back, her heart pounding in her chest as she whispered out

"Malfoy, wait."

His strides halted as she peered curiously over the corner, but he didn't turn to acknowledge her any further.

"Would you go to Slughorn's Christmas party with me?" It was rushed and as soon as the question left her lips, she felt the oddity of the words and the situation she was in hit her. She gulped nervously as he twisted around to look at her, his face full of confusion and reluctant contempt. She only wondered what her face looked like right now, but she felt as if she were a deer caught in headlights, and the awkward second that passed between them intensified her jitters.

_Why did I **do** that? _Her mind raced with thoughts all of a sudden. Thoughts overlapped and scenes between her and Ron, her and Malfoy, even her and McLaggen repeated itself as her brain went into overdrive. _Am I **that** desperate? Ron would kill me if this happened, and this would kill him, but what was I **thinking**? This is **Malfoy** and you just invited him to look down at you, reject you, and then call you a mudblood, spit and walk away in arrogance._

Hermione groaned as all the thoughts jumbled around within the split second that she had closed her eyes at the realization of her mistake, and the resounding idiocy of her actions hit her as the last thought repeated itself in her mind.

When she opened her eyes a second later, he had walked back towards her, only a few feet separating them now, not a few yards as it was before. She stumbled back at the sudden proximity change, and his sudden closeness allowed her to study his features in detail, the contours of his distressed face, his scowl, his sleep deprived eyes and hi-

"What the _fuck_ Granger?" He spat out, and she grimaced, expecting this reaction from her deductions a second ago. His reaction really put things into perspective. Ron's rejection, it ached to think about it that way, had brought her to the cliff of desperation, and she had been so ready to jump into the abyss of stupidity, and she already had, judging by the way she had impulsively blurted out the dumbest thing she could've done in the situation.

But she steeled herself. She would deal with the consequences of this stupid mistake, and climb out of the abyss. She was _Hermione Granger,_ she could figure out and get past anything if she set her mind to it. She gritted her teeth as she waited for him to continue, finish, and walk away.

"As- as if.." her eyebrows scrunched in confusion at his stutter and reluctance as he paused. "As if I'd go to some **_stupid_** _tea party_ with the likes of **_you_**_." _The words seemed as if they were forced out, as if he didn't want to say them, didn't want to say anything at all, and he didn't wait for her reaction as he spun around to leave.

And though she had steeled herself, the words, so like the words she had often heard from Ron_ (Well I hope you have fun at the stupid Christmas party, because-")_ and the end of the sentence _(with the likes of **you**)_, so like the words she'd always feared she would hear from her peers, she couldn't help the strangled sob and outraged cry that left her.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had pulled out her wand at lashed out a rather vicious curse in his direction, her aim slightly off due to her clouded vision from the leaking tears. Malfoy however, turned in time to see her cast it and dodged, taking out his own wand to retaliate. He cast a stinging hex in her direction, and Hermione, still shocked from her actions and angered by his words, didn't see it coming, and she cried out in pain as it marked her arm, causing it to engorge and bulge in awkward and unnatural ways.

She was now sobbing both from her anguish caused by Ron and Malfoy's hex, and she dropped to her knees, allowing her unruly hair to fall around her shoulders and face, shadowing her eyes and the tears that leaked from them. Her hands trembled from the sting on her arm, and her wand fell out of her grip, rolling away from her. Hermione didn't bother hiding or holding back her tears and cries now, her mind playing the day's events back in her head and repeatedly calling her a coward, stupid, _pathetic_ and desperate, everything she had vowed that she would never become.

Never once did she think that Draco Malfoy was still standing there, watching her with wide eyes filled with concern at the situation.

He had cast the stinging hex at people before, but never had they had such an averse and dramatic reaction, and he hesitated as he watched her body tremble and her chest heave from the sobs. If she went to the infirmary, and if she blamed him...

His eyes widened in alarm. He was already behind schedule and his attempts and plans were falling part around him. If this got out, that he had _attacked _Granger, people would start paying more attention to him again, and he was certain to get detention for at least a month. Snape, being the nosy professor he was, would jump at the opportunity presented to take him and persuade him _again_, about letting _him_ take care of everything.

Draco sneered at the prospect of that happening. _No, this is **my** job, and **I** will bring glory back to my family._ Draco wasn't stupid, he knew what would happen if he himself didn't complete the task, his mother, his father and he himself would not survive even if _Bellatrix_ asked the Dark Lord to spare them.

Again, he had lifted off into a reverie at the thought and he snapped himself back to the moment and he strode back towards the girl on the floor, crouching down so that he could see her arm. Seeing her so close, and seeing the familiar frizzed hair of hers, his senses jumped into hyper awareness of who she was, _Harry Potter's best friend,_ and more importantly, a** mudblood. **It felt strange to think of her, to think of anybody that way, for having not spoken to his father in so long, the repeated use of the word hadn't been reinforced, and he had almost been at peace forgetting the word's existence.

If he didn't think about the word, he didn't have to constantly remind himself that his classmates and peers, so alike himself, (pulling pranks, making mistakes, having fun, studying, sneaking around) were not his equals, but below him. It was so easy to forget that they didn't deserve the magic they had, and for once, it didn't matter if he did better or not. No pressure to defeat the Boy Who Lived in Quidditch, no pressure to outsmart the mudblood in classes. Draco had forgotten how much pressure it had instilled in him, and the thought of her heritage sent a stray thought voiced by his father to pass through his head.

_Draco, it would do well to remember who you are. You are better than this filth._

He tensed at the reminder, and scowled menacingly at her as she glanced up at him slowly, her face contorted into pain. He didn't think he could take anymore. With all the pressure and tension to succeed that had built up in him since he had been given the task, he had forgotten about being above others and bullying, and the reminder only served to double his stress, and he could feel the physical ache of his temple throbbing assault him again, along with the now familiar prick at the edge of his eyes. He couldn't take the force of the task as well as the pressure that his blood and heritage placed upon him at the same time. He felt as if he was suffocating, it was too much.

Digging his nails into his palm, Draco calmed himself. No, thoughts of blood status were gone now, they didn't matter at the moment. Granger was not, _not_ a-

She was just a girl. That he had mistakenly hexed. Fluttering his eyes open, unaware that he had closed them at all, he looked at her, and met her eyes, which was filled with curiousity at his actions, enough so that her tears had stopped and her sobs had minimized to a soft sniffling.

_Yes,_ Draco thought. _She's just an emotional girl and means nothing more and nothing less_. There were distant alarm bells in the back of his head as the throbbing in his temple subsided, warning him, warning him that the fact that he could so easily forget the truths that he had been taught for 16 years was _not _a good sign. His father would not be proud and his aunt would probably torture him for forgetting even for a moment.

But frankly, he didn't care anymore. Holding on to his reserve to do this, he gently took her wrist in his hand, and lifted her arm to examine the damage that he had done. He noticed her tense visibly at the motion, waiting for him to do worse. He saw her eyes darting around frantically, searching for her wand, and he noticed the troubled look and her erratic breathing as she didn't find it. Reaching behind him with his other hand, he found her discarded wand on the floor, handing it to her slowly, and she visibly relaxed when it was firmly clutched in her hands.

"What.." Hermione started somewhat apprehensively. "What are you doing?" She whispered in a curious, and almost child like wonder.

He lifted her arm again, examining her arm carefully. "Fixing what I did." He stated monotonously.

"Why?" Her tone was confident again, the small suspicion niggling itself back into her mind.

His lips thinned as he lifted his wand, ignoring her question. His hand trembled as he pointed the wand towards her arm unsurely, not quite confident about the healing incantation he was about to use.

Hermione recognized that look. It was the look that Harry and Ron had right before they cast a spell that usually turned out disastrous, especially in Charms.

"Stop. Don't you _dare_." Her tone wasn't threatening or filled with malice as he had expected it to be. Instead, he was surprised to find that she was talking to him almost...like a child. His confusion caused him to laxen his grip on her wrist, and she moved her arm back, wincing as she accidentally stretched the skin further on the blisters and rashes from the hex. Gripping her wand in her other hand, she cast a nonverbal spell and the skin was back to being smooth and unmarked.

"Nothing to worry about Malfoy, I'm fine." Hermione's mind was boggled. Was this really the boy who had tormented her, Harry and Ron for five years? The one who had brought her to tears in second year just from one word, and again, just a few minutes ago?

Meanwhile, Malfoy was silently stunned at her skill. While he barely knew how to use the spell out loud, she had already mastered it non verbally? If only, if he had the skills that she had with spells, maybe he could protect his family better. He was once again left with the bitter reminder of his failures and the daunting task that he was left to do.

Hermione didn't know what probed her to do so, but as his expression once again slipped out of focus, she reached a hand out, placing it on his shoulder, her now concerned eyes watching him. If he was going to be civil, she would not complain. And watching his face contort into expressions of torture, Hermione couldn't help but think that Harry's suspicions might be truer than she had at first believed.

But while she thought that, she also came to another realization. If- if he _was_ a Death Eater, he definitely wasn't one by choice. And whatever he was doing was being forced upon him. She knew he was still the boy who would not be able to lift his wand and kill, he was not capable of such cruelty beyond the words he was forced to repeat by his family, and forced to taunt with at school. Suddenly sympathetic, Hermione gently caressed his shoulder, trying to coax him back to the present soothingly.

"Malfoy..." She whispered knowingly. His eyes snapped back once again. "Don't worry about it." And they both knew that she wasn't talking about the hex anymore.

His breathing had slowed down, and he stared into her eyes almost serenely, accepting his fate and situation, allowing a moment of solace through her silent understanding and touch. And while just five minutes ago, they had stood in a tense silence, now, they kneeled in an understanding and peaceful one, neither breaking the temporary comfort they had found in each other.

He knew what the society and life he was born into entailed, and he fully understood the consequences of his current action, motionlessly and willingly staying there, accepting her comfort. It was forbidden, but he had not felt so accepted in such a long time, as not even his mother's frantic and panicked eyes could calm him nowadays. Recently, he had even resorted to Myrtle's whining and cooing in the bathroom when he couldn't stand the stress that was building in him.

Staring into her life filled eyes, her solid presence and her willingness to sit and soothe him, he was taken aback. Never had he imagined that the girl he had thrown all his hate and stress at would be sitting there, once again the recipient of his bottled up emotions. It was the same as the past five years had been, and yet it was so ironically different.

He saw no meaning in spitting hateful words at her face, saw no reason to hate her.

He searched and searched, his father's words distantly echoing in his mind, his aunt's cackling occasionally joining him.

_Mudblood_ his mind screeched. But there was nothing. Not in her face, not in her expression. She was like any other witch and wizard and it unnerved him for a second. But the oddity in the similarities he saw between her and every other girl, witch, _human_ disappeared almost instantly and the tiny thought that had always been in the back of his mind grew. She was no different, _she was the same as him_.

His father, his aunt, the blood pounding in his veins, the pure and magical-

no meaning at all.

Suddenly, he felt the immense pressure of prejudice and hate lift from his shoulders. The expected crash from his realization wasn't there, and a heavy weight sunk in his chest at the understanding that this wasn't a new concept to him, that he never really believed his father at all. He felt a small thought of betrayal at the prospect, but it was overpowered by the freedom of choice and knowledge.

And when he stood up and her hand slipped off of his shoulder, he saw the expression of uncertainty cross her face, an expression telling him that she had thought he was unnerved by her actions, disliked her comfort, and his heart squeezed at the thought of never seeing that understanding again. She was a smart witch, more observant than any of his friends were. He knew that she had already understood a lot more of his situation than any of his housemates in the past few months had.

While Pansy, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle were there for him when he mentioned that he had an important task to complete, he also knew that they had no inkling of the reality of the situation. While Pansy could giggle and flirt with him, she would never understand why he would snap and became antsy so easily nowadays. She, along with Crabbe and Goyle would whine at his brutal silence and occasional harsh words towards their ignorant minds, for he was so _sick_ of hearing about food, classes and crushes. Blaise, a little more quiet and observant, would give him knowing glances once in a while, but never dared to cross the threshold into asking him or helping him.

Draco knew that Blaise had an inkling about the dangers and consequence of the situation that his family had landed him in, and though he was normally willing to help, this was not a territory he was willing to cross into. _Hell_, if anyone else was in this situation, he knew he wouldn't have offered his help either. Blaise was just being smart.

But, _this girl_, Granger, she knew, she understood, and stayed. He knew for a fact that if he blurted out the entire situation to her right now, she wouldn't cry in outrage and attempt to catch and imprison him like the law would, or even _Potter_ would. And frankly, he _didn't know_ what she would do, and it intrigued him. Without a word from him, she had already understood his pain and distress.

And while he knew he wasn't allowed to speak about his task, it was never dictated that people could not find out on their own. It was almost a spark of hope that built within him. If just _one person-_ Draco paused. _No. _She can't know. His life was on the line, his mother's life. His whole family.

He would not tell her anything and risk everything, he would _not._ But at the same time, he was not willing to let go of that brightness either, the hope that maybe she would accept him for who he was beyond this task.

Because truthfully, while he had considered that the thought of completing the task itself was daunting enough, the prospect of what happened after was even worse. If he failed, he would be branded a failure on one side, an enemy on the other and if-if he _succeeded_, he would only become deeper involved within the circle of the darkness he wished to escape from, and completely shunned from..._her _side.

If only, _one person_ like her understood, it would be enough. It was addicting, what he was feeling in this one moment together. The mix of emotions, thoughts and stress overwhelmed him and he noticed that she had stood up as well, not moving an inch, her stare still solely fixed on him. Draco faltered. There was just _so much_ to think about.

When he had told himself to simply think that she was _just a girl_, he never realized the consequences of the thought would be so alarmingly complex. So Draco cast away all other thoughts from his mind, thoughts of _what if's_ and _how come's_ and only one remained.

"When's the party?"

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><p><em>While our choices are limited by external circumstances, the existentialist position rejects the notion that our acts are determined. There are a range of choices available to each of us and we are free to choose and therefore responsible for our own choices and actions. We must create and live with our own individual freedom.<em>

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><p>Should I keep this a one-shot or continue on? I have some ideas for where this could go, and it was really hard to fit Draco's change of heart into one chapter, and I couldn't. I obviously still left him fighting with himself whether or not to reveal and trust her or not, but I'm not sure if you guys would want this to be continued, so I tried to fit it all in.<p>

Review if you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't. And yes, I appreciate **criticism**.


	2. Chapter 2

_Existential anxiety, which is basically a consciousness of our own freedom, is an essential part of living; as we increase our awareness of the choices available to us, we also increase our awareness of the consequences of these choices._

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><p>Narcissa Malfoy watched with careful eyes as a young, innocent Draco followed behind his tall father, his head craned up to stare admiringly as Lucius Malfoy strode arrogantly down Diagon Alley. Barely a young boy, just past his toddler years, Narcissa couldn't help the twitch of her lips that curved into a smile as her son yelped in excitement at the toy brooms that whizzed around the Quidditch shop. His excited eyes observed his surroundings, taking in every little detail in wonder, and he was soon rattling off everything he saw to his impatient father.<p>

Narcissa's thin smile once again flattened into impassiveness as she watched her husband ignore his son's excitement, snarking at Draco to silence himself, for he was ''embarrassing them all with his incessant prattle''. Draco immediately stopped, his eyes growing large in sadness, and he glanced back at his mother, his mouth struggling to stay away from frowning, trying and failing at keeping his tears at bay. Although she wanted so dearly to take him up into her arms and soothe him, she knew her husband would not take kindly to coddling and _weakness, _especially not in public.

Quietly hurrying up to them, she hushed and soothed him with whispered words of kindness, and a soft pat on his back brought him back from the edge of tears to normality, and she once again took a step back and fell into her mask her aristocratic family wore. She followed her husband quietly, and throughout the years, as he had chosen to take a proactive life in anti-Muggle works and followed the Dark Lord, she had not spoken a word against him. And now, as he continued to infest Draco's mind with words of hatred, arrogance and Pureblood traditions, she once again spoke nothing against him. She had grown up in a Pureblooded family herself, and she knew what the traditions entailed, and what failure to comply would result in. Not only did one face hatred from one's own family, but from a whole society of them, the aristocratic of the wizards.

Now Narcissa wasn't fooling herself into thinking that there was any truth in the anti-Muggle movement that was building. She wasn't blind or deaf like many of her aristocratic friends pretended to be, she saw the truths around her. Because of stupid traditions, her family had been ripped apart as a child, and she had never truly forgiven the society marked of Purebloods for the pain she had endured, losing her dear older sister 'Dromeda to the Muggles, and then her eldest sister Bellatrix to the completely opposite side. For that sole reason in itself, she never chose a side, finding both unpleasant in their own ways. But as a pureblooded daughter, she was expected to fulfill her duties and marry a Pureblooded wizard.

It was not an arranged marriage by any means, he had courted her for an appropriate amount of time before proposing, and she had gladly accepted on behalf of herself and her family. But just because it had not been officially set up did not mean that there were not family members behind the works of their meetings and encouragements to fall in love. Narcissa would accept that she loved Lucius, from prodding and dates to the marriage and her son, there were moments that had endeared her. However, just because she loved him did not mean that she approved of his choices and actions.

Beyond her childhood misery though, Narcissa felt the reality of her Wizarding world around her, so much more so than her husband or any of her family members could. While Pureblooded aristocrats wandered around placing Muggles and Muggleborns beneath them, the said _trash_ as her family dubbed them, were building up to be ingenious people. She did not miss the occasional reports in the _Daily Prophet_ about Muggles and their advances in the field of science, or the rise of many a famous wizard and witch who were of Muggleborn descent. She knew the era of traditions was dying away, leaving no room for the prejudices her family believed in, and she could not stand the close minded upbringing Draco was being brought up in.

The dislike of her husband's methods grew as Lucius cracked another snide remark, a _joke_ he called it, towards Muggles, using the offensive word she frowned at. Her discomfort grew even greater as Draco laughed along, unaware of the malice behind the words, blindingly following his father's judgement and trusting it to be true. She did not want to tolerate this, but as long as the aristocratic Pureblooded societies had the power in the wizarding world, she could not say a thing. For while she disliked prejudice and hate, her fear of losing her son, having him taken away from her forever, was even greater.

Therefore, she stayed quiet once more, suffering in silence as she watched her son grow to become like his father. But there was hope, she knew. For although Draco may have been Lucius' son, he was also _her_ son, and he would see reason when the time came, she knew that for sure.

* * *

><p>Hermione pondered what she was going to tell Harry when she got back to the Gryffindor room. <em>"Oh hey Harry! Guess who I'm going to Slughorn's christmas party with? Malfoy!" <em>No, that was just plain silly. Maybe she shouldn't say anything and just show up with Malfoy at the party? She bit her lip as she tossed that idea as well, unsure of what to do or say. Even she herself couldn't believe the situation she had gotten herself into. _She_ had asked Malfoy, and he had _accepted_.

She knew Parvati and Lavender would- she frowned again_. Lavender._ She frowned at the thought of the girl in Ron's arm giggling, and it still stung that Ron had shunned and moved on from her so fast. She wasn't letting him affect her though, for she too had a new person to focus on, even if it wasn't remotely close to what Ron and Lavender were involved in. An image of herself and Malfoy holding hands and skipping along the corridor giggling flashed in her mind and she grimaced at the horrid thought. Not only would she never degrade herself to giggling like a bimbo, but thinking about Malfoy in that way was just...uneasy.

She had never believed him to be more than a prat, a cowardly bully, and to think of him otherwise was beyond comprehension, and she pushed the thought off of her mind. She had barely accepted the fact that he could be civil, and her mind was already jumping to conclusions of romance? She rolled her eyes at herself and her occasional teenage like romantic daydreams that her mind traipsed off to. For all the intelligence she claimed to have, being a romantic teenage girl caused her to lose sight of reality once in a while.

However, while she had banished the thought of romance away from her mind, she had embraced the idea of an allegiance, comradery, maybe even an eventual friendship with Malfoy, where she could possibly, _maybe_, _**hopefully**_ convince him away from the Dark Arts. While this also felt like a stretch, she had seen uncertainty in his demeanor when she had met him, and the fact that he had accepted her proposal for the party gave her some hope.

She smiled at the memory of Malfoy's awkwardness when he had asked her about the party, his gaze darting to everywhere but her eyes. "Cinis cineris" she spoke, and the portrait swung open, allowing her to step in to find an empty and rather trashed common room, amongst which a dozing off Harry sat.

"Harry? What are you still doing here?" Hermione asked curiously, walking over to sit next to him as his head snapped up, and he stared around in confusion for a few seconds.

"I was waiting for you" Harry said, his eyes crinkling in worry. "You weren't here when I came back."

Though it was awkward and somewhat embarrassing, she told Harry and Ron, well only Harry now, everything that mattered in her life. She trusted them with any information she told them, and trusted them to understand her reasons and actions, even if they were impulsive. Not that Harry could admonish _her_ for being impulsive and rash, she thought wryly. She took a deep breath, ready to wing it and tell him about her encounter with Malfoy.

"I was with-"

"You were with Malfoy." She gaped at him.

"Wha-how-why-"she sputtered, her mind blanking for a moment at the thought that Harry already _knew_ and how-

He waved the Marauders' map in front of her face, quirking his eyebrow.

"So?" He asked. She blinked at him blankly.

"So what?"

"So what did you find out? Where's he going? Is he a Death Eater?" She rolled her eyes at him

"For God's sake Harry, that's what you ask first? Not, 'What happened, did he hex you' or 'are you ok Hermione'?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, are you ok Hermione? Yes, you look dandy. Let's move on. What happened?"

Hermione quirked her lips into a smile at him. She knew that he thought of her as a capable witch, capable enough to defend off Draco Malfoy even at his best. The fact that he believed in her abilities and didn't incessantly worry or surge to stupid conclusions like other boys-_Ron-_ tended to do made her smile in pride and love.

A surge of affection rose in her and she hugged him, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Harry."

"Ok.." He said with confusion as her returned her hug.

Pulling back, she beamed at him and blurted "I asked him to Slughorn's christmas party." The dumb look that passed over Harry's face only made her grin wider and she laughed out loud as he blinked slowly, not processing her words.

"Who's 'him'?"

"Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"Malfoy."

"You asked Malfoy to Slughorn's christmas party?"

"Yes."

Now Harry was just dumfounded. He was sure there was Hermione-logic behind this that he didn't understand, but how did asking Malfoy to a dance help with anything? Before he could ask her though, a snort sounded to the side and both Harry and Hermione snapped their heads over to see Ron standing there, one foot on the bottom step, as if he had paused in walking down the staircase.

"_Malfoy, _Hermione?" His voice was soaked with venom and jealousy.

"So, what's it to you?" Hermione replied in a composed manner, almost detached and uncaring.

"What's it to me? Well, I just don't want to deal with a crying mess of your tears when he doesn't show up tomorrow and you embarras yourself by having no date. He was obviously pulling your leg and your trust to make fun of you Hermione. Can't believe you fell for that." Ron rolled his eyes.

A ball of pure rage built up in her, but before she could scream at Ron and wake up the whole Gryffindor house, Harry had risen up from the sofa to glare at him. "Oh, sod off Ron. Hermione is smarter than that. If she asked Malfoy to the party, there's a damn good reason behind it, and you know that. Haven't we been best friends for years?" Harry, though he himself was unsure of and skeptical about any reason Hermione could provide for him, he supported her with all his might. Harry chose his next words carefully, not wanting to alienate either friend.

"Hermione deserves our trust and understanding, and I'm going to hear out what she has to say and her thoughts on this situation. You can leave if you don't want to hear it, but don't insult her intelligence Ron, we all know who's going to end up looking like the fool then." Harry concluded calmly, sitting back down on the sofa, turning away from the other boy.

"Fine, have it your way. I still think you're wrong, there's never a good reason behind befriending a Malfoy. It always leads to disaster." Ron turned away, stomping back up to the dorms, leaving Harry and Hermione alone once again.

"So, care to explain?" Harry quirked an eyebrow at her and she chuckled.

"Well..." She started, resolving to tell him the whole truth about what had happened and her suspicions about Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Narcissa sipped a tiny bit of the proffered tea before placing it back on the table. Appearances and manners had taught her to always be polite and to be the best guest possible, though she really didn't care to place any conscious efforts at the moment. Snape, sitting across from her merely waited for her to begin the conversation.<p>

Folding her hands in her lap, with her back stiff and straight, she looked the part of the aristocratic Pureblood as she spoke. "Severus, I assume you are aware that Draco is beginning his first year at Hogwarts this fall?" He nodded. Unsure of how to phrase this any differently, she stated bluntly, "I have a favor to ask of you."

Not moving an inch, Snape stared at her unresponsively. Taking it as a signal to continue, she nervously wrung her hands together, an unusual occurrence by the Malfoy matriarch, as she thought of the best way to ask.

"If I recall properly, you were rather fond of a Muggleborn girl during our years at Hogwarts were you not?" Narcissa asked carefully, watching him with wary eyes. His head snapped towards her rather quickly and his eyes flickered, gazing into hers suspiciously, before his mask of impassiveness replaced itself.

"Why do you ask, Narcissa?" He drawled out, sounding bored.

"Severus, I know you are a smart man. You, along with myself, can see the truth about Muggles and Muggleborns. I remembered she was a rather close friend of yours for many years, and I cannot understand why you came to the Dark Lord when he rose, but I do know that you never truly believed his ideals." Narcissa spoke slowly and carefully, watching for his reactions once again.

"And why do you say that?" He said, his tone suggesting that he was unconvinced by her speech.

"Because you loved her." Narcissa took a leaping chance saying so, for at the possibility that he didn't and truly did believe in the Dark Arts, she would be ratted out and thrown out of the family within days.

But she knew that she had hit the mark when his hand clenched around the armchair, his fingers digging into the wood. Before he could retaliate or banish her from his office, she spoke up again.

"I have a request Severus. The Dark Lord disappeared a decade ago, missing for so long. The proof of the brilliance of Muggleborn witches and wizards along with the belief in his demise among our world has brought a sense of acceptance Severus, and our-" she paused, " _their_ beliefs and traditions in pure blood are ruining the lives of our children. Growing up in a modern day society of acceptance, I cannot have Draco become the foolish and prejudiced child amongst the minority, ridiculed for following his father's footsteps. I do not know how much you can do Severus, but please, do not let him get out of hand." She spoke in a faster tone this time, trying to get out her information fast enough before Snape exploded in anger at her.

However, he seemed to have calmed down. "You believe the Dark Lord to be dead Narcissa?" He asked. She pressed her lips together into a thin line.

"It does not matter whether or not he is dead. He will eventually be gone, part of a dark history, and Draco will eventually face a life of a fair judging world, and I would rather not he face it as one with a closed mind, but one open to opportunities to live...and love." She only wished the best for her son, the opportunities and experiences that she could never have.

Snape stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating her request. After a few tense seconds, he nodded at her in acknowledgement, and it was enough.

* * *

><p>Draco tugged at his collar, staring once again at his formal outfit that he had trudged out for the occasion. He had been half way through removing the buttons off of his dresshirt when he had abruptly stopped, his heart starting to pound in fear. There were so many things that had run through his mind in the past night 24 hours since the incident with Granger, and he was once again at the edge of regretting his decision to accept her offer.<p>

Not only was he publicly going to be accompanying a Muggleborn witch, but she also happened to be one of Harry Potter's best friends. He groaned at the thought of running into Snape at the party. Even if he never did see Snape there, he knew rumors would spread, and eventually, even the stoic and unsocial professor would find out about this.

He glanced at the mirror, staring into his somewhat bloodshot eyes and tussled hair. He had not gotten much sleep, even less than usual, which in itself wasn't much at all either. Staying up all night contemplating the ways in which he would complete his task, the consequences of his success or failure, his mother, father, Granger, what he could trust her with, what he could trust _Snape_ with, what he should tell his mother when he visited...the list went on and on. He didn't know what or who he was anymore, least of all what he believed in. A heavy burden sunk into his chest at the thought of disapproval from his parents if he ever mentioned the idea of being skeptical at pureblood ancestry and traditions.

He had accepted her offer though, and though he desperately wanted to forget he had ever done so and curl up into a tight ball and fall asleep, he knew he was obligated to show up. His mother's words of being a polite guest for once trumped his father's words of hate and he quickly threw on his formal robes and walked out of his dorm and common room before he could change his mind. She had said to meet at the entrance hall, and as he walked towards it, he noticed a gathering of girls on the sides, and when he turned the corner, one Luna Lovegood standing in odd looking silver robes that was attracting some snickers and snide remarks from the people there. His face twisted into a sneer at her lack of tact but he made no remark like he usually did. She would do whatever she wanted, and he knew that his words admonishing her taste were pathetically useless and would make him look more like a fool than she did.

He stood in the opposite side of where she was, ignoring her presence and those of the whispering girls behind him.

"Here for the party are you?" Luna's airy voice echoed in the hall, and Draco turned his head slightly, glancing at her through his peripheral vision.

"Yes, Draco. I am talking to you." She smiled, her gaze somewhat lost into something above his head. "You have quite a few nargles surrounding your head you know. Even more than Harry's, which is quite surprising really."

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and stayed silent.

"Are you waiting for Hermione. She is your date, or am I mistaken?" This time his head shot towards her as a collection of gasps from various girls in the corridor echoed in the hall.

"What did you say?" He seethed, sudden anger boiling up from his chest. Granger had _told_ people about this? Was she flaunting the fact around the school? Had she not understood his discomfort at attention? Maybe he had completely misread her the day before. Maybe she had not truly known or understood his pain. His mind could have easily been playing tricks on him, interpreting her expressions to be things he wanted to see. He had wanted somebody to understand for so long...

"Oh don't get me wrong Draco. I just assumed that since I'm waiting for Harry here, and you're also waiting here, that Hermione should be your partner for this rather peculiar party." Luna spoke, somewhat in a tone that suggested she observed and knew more than she let on from her expression.

"I-" Draco looked around at the gaggle of girls scrutinizing him and he suddenly felt the pressure of his decision mount up on him again. "I don't know what you're talking about" he sputtered out, and he turned and strode away from the entrance hall, his heart pounding in fear. These girls were rumor mills, and he knew that even if he was never seen with Granger, damage was already done.

"Oh, what should I tell Hermione when she comes? Draco?" Luna asked and he ignored her as he strode away. Luna didn't seem perturbed though, and smiled as if she knew a secret others didn't.

Soon enough Harry and Hermione arrived at the entrance hall, and Hermione wrung her hands together when she saw the corridor empty of a certain blond.

"Maybe he's just running late" Harry comforted, still a little skeptical. He had listened to Hermione's tale and about the indecision and torture that Malfoy exhibited. He believed her judgement, but he still didn't think Malfoy was going to come bounding for a friendship with them, betraying the ideals he believed in for his whole life.

"Oh, Draco? He came by a few minutes ago, but ran off when I asked him if Hermione was his date. Perhaps he was a bit put off by the large amounts of whispers by the wrackspurt filled girls here." Harry snickered at the unintended insult that had his fans confused in the exact manner that Luna described.

Hermione however, had bitten her lip in consternation and stared down the hall. "I have to go Harry. He might be hurt or distressed. I don't think he wants people to know about him and he's been avoiding attention all year. I don't want to let go of the only chance we have" Hermione gave him a worried look as she hurried down the corridor.

"Wait, Hermione." He yelled after her, as she ran off in a random direction in a paniked. "Here, take this, it'll help." He handed over the invisibility cloak and the Marauders' map to her. He knew how she felt, for too had experienced the need to help, the need to be there and save somebody so many times before. Even if it was Malfoy, he wouldn't stop her from doing what she had to. She wanted to, _needed_ to do this for herself and for Malfoy. "Be careful Hermione. If he's really that scared and distressed, he could be dangerous. Come find me and tell me everything as soon as you can okay?" He gave her a serious look and she smiled back at him and nodded.

Harry watched her run off and headed back towards Luna. "A rather odd couple don't you say?" He quirked his eyebrow at her question.

"What?"

"Draco and Hermione. It is rather something isn't it. I wonder how long it will be until they're dating" Luna whispered to him almost knowingly. He blinked a few times before he laughed out loud.

"That'll be the day. When Hermione announces that she's dating the definition of prejudice, and Malfoy announces that he loves Muggleborns." He chuckled once again at the thought as he escorted Luna towards Slughorn's office.

* * *

><p>Hermione hurried down the seventh floor, having spotted Malfoy's name just in front of the room of requirement once again. This time, when she turned the corner though, she watched as the room of requirement opened itself to him, but before it could close behind him, her quick paced brain told her to throw on the invisibility cloak and slip in. She was a little surprised that the room had let her in, for it had closed so many times before to people who had tried to intrude in on the meeting for Dumbledore's army.<p>

It was almost as if the room had sensed her will to help, not harm Draco Malfoy. Though she did nto reveal herself to him, it was only because she knew she would never know the truth about his doings and discomfort without finding out for herself. He would never tell her, no matter how much she gained his trust, because he was too scared. She wasn't sure what he was afraid of, an image of Voldemort flashed, but she had an inkling.

Gazing around the shape that the room had formed, she was confused at the multitude of objects that lined the place. Out of all the places, he had chosen the spot where all the Hogwarts students throughout the ages hid their items? It was a peculiar place to choose, she thought, but it was also a place where nobody would go looking for signs of Dark Art. She was impressed by the intelligence behind the chosen location, and for a moment, though she knew Malfoy was doing this to aid Voldemort, she was impressed by his excellent strategizing.

She tailed a good 30 feet behind him, not wanting him to have any suspicion of her presence nearby. Soon, he made one last turn and stood in front of a large box shaped item, almost like a dresser. Almost immediately, she knew what it was; a vanishing cabinet.

She involuntarily gasped. She had read about them and how they had been so popular when Voldemort had first risen. They were unique because, though they were similar to apparating and the Floo network, they were not monitored by the ministry and could not be stopped by spells and enchantments. She gasped at the implications, fear and realization growing at the thought of what Malfoy was going to do with it.

But before she could panik, she remembered that this particular vanishing cabinet was broken after an incident with Peeves and Harry during first year. However, as she watched Draco place something in there and whisper and incantation she couldn't hear, she realized what he was trying to do, where Harry had seen him disappearing off to all this time. While Hogwarts was the safest place they could be, warding off Death Eaters from apparating and entering the castle, she doubted that even the protective wards on the castle could stop the magic of a working vanishing cabinet.

Throwing off her cloak after making her decision, she made her presence known with a firm "Malfoy."

He spun and faced her, sneering almost in a state of panik.

"You know, it's rude to not show up after accepting an invitation to a party you know?" She smirked, her hands on her hips in an admonishing manor.

He furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, confused at what she was trying to do. She sighed and dropped her light hearted words, her confident posture slumping down to reveal her worry and exhaustion.

"Look Malfoy, I'm not going to report you." She strode forward to take his hand in hers, like she had done so many times to Harry. Throughout the years, she had experienced so many similar situations with Harry and Ron, where she had learned secrets she was forced to keep, never wanted to know and was thrown into adventures she had never expected. But as she held Draco Malfoy's hand, she knew this was different. She was choosing this, and knew that he, and people like him, would play a crucial part in the war. Those that were indecisive, on both sides, were the ones that were the most dangerous and influential. It was basic knowledge and she was in a position where she had the power to help him see the truth. There were always more to people than the society they were raised in, and he was showing her the truth in that.

"There's another way." She whispered, his hand feeling odd in hers, different from anytime she had held Harry's. She didn't know if he was a Death Eater, or even if he had an order from Voldemort, but she knew he was scared. And she knew she could help him. Reporting him to the authorities would not help, she had definitely learned _that_ over the years.

"If you trust me, and if a few others know," she bit her lip and paused, knowing that he wouldn't like what she said next "I could get you to safety. I could protect you in the Order, hiding you until the war is over." An immense sense of responsibility and need to protect him, the real Draco Malfoy who could see the truth and senselessness in killing humans, overwhelmed her as he squeezed her hand, his gaze never wavering from hers.

A spark of hope and curiosity had filled his eyes, and almost exactly like the way she had asked him the previous day, he whispered "Why?", almost scared that she would realize that he was not worth it and leave. She never let go of his gaze or his hand as she replied.

"Because you matter."

* * *

><p>There weer only ten minutes or so left in the christmas party, there was no point in showing up there. Tired from all the searching and sneaking she had done, she felt her limbs weigh down from soreness, and she stumbled into the Gryffindor common room rather clumsily, her eyes dropping into sleep. Before she could turn towards the dorms to go to her bed, she spotted robes, skin, patch of red, <em>Ron<em> on the sofa. Snapping her eyes open, she stared warily at him, his lanky and tall form hunched over the sofa with a sheepish smile plastered across his face as he stared at her.

"Hey 'Mione." He almost whispered at her. Her eyebrows furrowed at this. She knew what this was, and she was not going to take it.

"Harry told you to do this didn't he?" She snapped at him, striding forward to stand closer.

"Wha- No!" He stared incredulously.

"Then what are you doing? You never apologize to me on your own. You always act so _high and mighty._ Well Ron, I'm _sick_ of it. I don't want to hear your insults and unnecessary taunts anymore." Hermione cried out, finally lashing out her pent up rage at him.

"You're making it sound like I'm Malfoy or something Hermione. If you could forgive _him, _why can't you forgive _me?_ I care about you, you're my _best friend, _I don't want to lose you over some dumb spat that we had. _I'm sorry_ that I was such a jerk towards you, _I'm sorry _that I mislead you, I was confused and angry. _I'm sorry_ that I let these feelings get in the way of our friendship. _I'm sorry_." He huffed out, standing up to tower over her in anger and shame. At that moment, she knew that he could easily strike her, and she could do nothing about it, but as she stared into his vulnerable eyes and kind, though somewhat angered, face, she knew that no matter how bulky, tall and menacing his build was, he would never,_ ever_ instill fear within her.

He stared quietly down at her, his chest heaving from shouting, his expression mellowing out into concern as each second passed. She felt the lump in her throat build, her eyes pricking with tears. No, she wouldn't cry. He was asking for forgiveness as a friend, and she didn't have the heart to say no. No matter how many times he hurt her, he had always apologized sincerely, and she loved him for that.

But at that thought, a realization flashed across her mind. He had asked forgiveness for his actions, but he had _never asked forgiveness for kissing Lavender._ He wasn't asking her to be his, he still had a girlfriend,_ he didn't love her_. Her chest constricted painfully, and the dam broke at the unfortunate truth, her tears leaking, her chest heaving painfully from her sobs. She didn't want to take these, these _feelings _anymore. First, the pressure with Malfoy, and then _Ron_.

She looked away from him, trying to feebly mask her weakness. No matter how comfortable she was around Harry and Ron, her tears had always embarrassed her, reminding her that she never could understand and fix everything.

Just then, a pair of arms wrapped around her and she fell into Ron's chest, burying her face into his clothes to hide away from reality. She didn't know how long she stayed there, but soon enough, she heard the Gryffindor common room open again and Harry join her and Ron in their embrace. That night, as her sobs softened and they sat in a comfortable silence simply enjoying each others' presence, she mourned the loss of a great love she had had for Ron and embraced the amazing love and friendship they had instead.

* * *

><p>Hermione lay awake into the early hours of the morning, running everything she had learned and felt throughout the week through her mind. A stray thought of Ron's rant passed through her thoughts and she froze.<p>

_"You're making it sound like I'm Malfoy or something Hermione. If you could forgive **him**, why can't you forgive **me**?"_

Her heart raced at thought. Had she really forgiven Draco Malfoy for the past five years? He wasn't Ron, he never apologized for his actions and he never would. However, Hermione reminded herself, she was a smart witch. Sometimes, actions spoke louder and words, and though Draco Malfoy never said he was sorry, she knew he was.

His refusal to call her a mudblood, his depression and discomfort at the thought of hurting people and his civility and almost kindness towards her, they all spoke loud and clear to her.

Yes, Ron comforted her through his kind words and hugs. But Malfoy comforted her as well, just in different ways.

_Yes._ Her eyes drooped slowly, her mind pulling off into sleep, her thoughts slowly drifting apart.

_I forgave him_.

She slept peacefully that night.

* * *

><p><em>Freedom is basic to existentialist understanding of human nature because it underlies our ability to choose. People are free to choose among alternatives and therefore have a large role in shaping their destinies. With freedom, we must also accept the responsibility for directing our lives. Freedom and responsibility go hand in hand<em>

* * *

><p>I think my writing ability might be diminishing. What do you guys think? Not as good as the first chapter? Should I rewrite it? Get more inspiration, spend more time? Write with more, or less, detail? Do I suck at comma usage? Review and tell me :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

_**The existentialist position encourages the increasing of one's self awareness. This leads to an emphasis on choice and responsibility and to the view that a worthwhile life is one that is authentic, honest, and genuine.**_

* * *

><p>"So what you're saying is that you basically told Malfoy that you'd help and he believed you?" Harry asked skeptically.<p>

"I call bullshit" Ron muttered, still sore about the subject of a certain Draco Malfoy. Shooting a glare at the redhead, Hermione nodded somewhat hesitantly.

"Well...Not exactly, but kind of. He just looked so...lost, and like he needed help. I couldn't just turn away because of some stupid prejudice."

"Yea, the prejudice that he's been using against you for years now Hermione. You can't just forgive him like that, that's not how it works. We don't know his intentions. In fact, we don't even know if he's a Death Eater or not at this point" Ron hissed at her. Lavender had recently taken to calling Ron with pet names, and he had soon started hanging out with Harry and Hermione more frequently once again, much to both of their relief.

"Oh he's a Death Eater alright, even Hermione said that that sneaky-" Harry started, his rivalry and growing dislike of Malfoy riling him up.

"No Harry, I never said that." Hermione shook her head. She bit her lip in consternation, she seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and pondered what she should say to the boys. She knew that if she told them the truth about her suspicions of his allegiance, they would immediately rush to confront him and refuse to think carefully. With Ron's headstrong stubbornness and Harry's refusal to think logically when it came to the Dark Arts, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stop them before they did something that would end in disaster.

"I think...he might be being pressured by Bellatrix. But I don't think he's a Death Eater" she lied, staring into their eyes with confidence. She was holding the fate of a boy's life in her hands. He had entrusted his choice to sway to be kept a secret with her, and she had promised not to divulge it to anyone who need not know. Remaining silent when she had promised him, he hadn't asked her who she would tell. The fact that he valued her judgement on who to trust made her even more determined to guard his faith in her. It was odd not revealing everything to Harry and Ron, but she felt no guilt when all she received were skeptical looks from two pairs of unconvinced eyes.

"Look, I know that you might not believe me right now, but trust me, I know what I'm doing. I think I'm getting to him a little. He hasn't said or called me anything since I've begun to talk to him and I think the next time that I meet him-"

"Wait, next time? Who said you're meeting him again? This is shady business Hermione, it's best if you don't get any more involved" Ron admonished in his commanding tone that he reverted to when he was becoming angry.

"Oh come off it, Ron. I _can't_ just leave him alone. I mean, would you just abandon a lost and drenched puppy in an alleyway like that?" Hermione argued back heatedly.

Harry snorted. "Did you just call Malfoy a _puppy _Hermione?" Harry and Ron burst out laughing and Hermione's concerned features relaxed, her lips quirking into an amused smile as well. She knew that they had their wary moods, and with good reason too. After the way Lucius Malfoy had treated Ron's father for so many years in the Ministry, it was no surprise that Ron refused to believe her, especially when the younger Malfoy had taken after his father's footsteps and antagonized her, one of Ron's best friends.

The mood had lightened for a few moments though and they smiled at each other, a familiar look shared between them throughout the years, content with the roaring fire in their common room. Light heartedly chatting with others from Gryffindor, they spent a typical evening with friends and peers. Hermione's heart soared at the love and contentment that was permeating throughout the room, truly feeling the luck that she had with amazing friends and an amazing life. Hermione lay back on the sofa, happy to be listening to her peers' lively chatter, with shallow conversations about boys and classes. Oh how she missed the freedom and easy going times of life, when nothing but class and friends mattered. She grinned as Ron started cracking lame jokes again.

"And- and then-" Ron broke off, laughing to himself as he remembered the punch line. "He goes Hip-o-griff!" Ron burst out laughing and Harry and Hermione blinked at each other, obviously missing the point of the joke. When his laughter died down, the other two were grinning ear to ear, staring at him amusedly. The common room had emptied quite a while ago, and the trio sat in silence once again, leaning back peacefully into their sofa. Hermione lazily pulled at a piece of loose lint on her jumper, eyes roaming between Harry and Ron and drifting off into mellow thoughts.

Meanwhile, Harry's thoughts were in a frenzy. He had never stopped thinking about the idea of Malfoy and Hermione. Hermione _helping_ Malfoy, Malfoy _not_ being a Death Eater, and strangest of all, Malfoy being _kind_ to Hermione. He hadn't given it much thought at first, as he had been rather busy with Dumbledore's lessons and the reuniting of his best friends.

Just when his wish for Ron and Hermione to remain as only friends had come true, another problem has arisen. It was rather odd and extenuating circumstances that had brought up Hermione's odd companionship, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was something that would last. Would Malfoy realize that he couldn't change and revert back to his old tendencies? What if he came into contact with his aunt and other Purebloods again, and they changed his mind back? Would he then deceive Hermione and misuse her trust? The nervous and foreboding feeling within his chest grew with these thoughts.

The soft sounds of the dying fire were interrupted when Harry spoke up. "You're really serious about helping Malfoy out aren't you?" He stared at her face, the orange glow of the fire reflecting and dancing off of his spectacles. Hermione smiled, raising her gaze up to face Harry's concerned and to Ron's rather curious and troubled look.

"Yea, I think he's worth giving a shot." She lowered her eyes to the piece of lint again, her smile never wavering.

"Why, though?" Ron whispered, almost as if he was scared of her answer, scared that she was being used, scared that she would once again be hurt.

It ached to hear the love in his voice, but it was a dull one, mellowed by the passion of another spark, a mission she knew was her place to fulfill. "Because I'm the only one who cares." Harry and Ron remained quiet at those words, knowing the truth that lay behind them. There were many people that Malfoy could have gone to, but he had chosen Hermione for a reason; she was compassionate, smart, and completely delved into a cause head on with every fiber of her being. If they ever wanted to win a cause or an argument, they knew who to ask. And so did Malfoy apparently.

"He has friends, and he has family, even Dumbledore to go to. But there's a reason that he's willing to reach out to me" Hermione stated. "I thought about it for a while, and I don't think even he has realized why yet, but I think I know." Curiosity piqued, Harry and Ron leaned forward, listening to her words intently.

"With anyone else, he feels threatened. With me, the one person that he has been able to vent his feelings out to-"

"But all he's ever done is yell and threaten you with filthy words!" Ron spat at her. She gave him a stern look and ignored his outburst, continuing.

"It's a familiarity. He may have spent years '_yelling'_ at me Ron, but there was also a reason behind that. He felt threatened by his father and his society and had to let it out somehow. It's easy for us to choose the right path Ron, we were _handed_ it to us. Our families and friends are all open minded and fighting for the Order and Dumbledore." She paused as she allowed Harry and Ron to absorb her thought process.

"But all he's ever had was Lucius and Bellatrix. Don't you think it would be rather hard to say no to your aunt, to your own _father?" _Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, obviously having never thought of it this way.

"Don't you think it's rather a miracle that he's even allowed me to be there and listen? That he hasn't cursed me and run off?" When she received no answer, she spoke on. "Well, _I_ do. Helping him is about a lot more than helping our cause win by bringing him away from Voldemort's influence. I can't even begin to imagine the torture he's facing within himself about betraying his father's ideals. He _truly_ doesn't want this, and I-" Hermione's voice wavered then, the worry for Draco Malfoy overpowering her.

"I _really_ need to help him. He can call me a mudblood all he wants, but the fact that he wants to escape doesn't change. Even if doesn't want it anymore, _I'm going to help him._ Not you, not him, _nobody_ can change my mind now." Her logic was flawless, she knew. Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to refute her thought process; they would have to learn to accept.

"And more than that, because I'm the one who he's been venting his emotions at for years, I'm the only one he's familiar with. He can't open up to the Slytherins, he can't open up to _anybody_, and I think once his mind realized that I was still here, the girl he's been 'threatening' for years, it just jumped at the opportunity to ask for help. He doesn't have _anybody_ else her for him at Hogwarts. And who knows if he even has anybody at home" She had reverted back to her matter of fact and passionate tone, her mind once again alive with ideas. "And with the pressure to break away from Voldemort within one part of his mind and the pressure to stay loyal to his family in the other, he needs somebody to help him" Now Harry and Ron sat in a daunting silence, both contemplating the enormity of the situation.

"And I'm the only one who can."

* * *

><p>It was rather dark times again for the trio, and they walked in relative silence as each pondered the different aspects of the war; of the people it was affecting. Harry had always thought that his parents were unjustly murdered, that he had been one of the unluckiest to be born with such a fate in this era. But looking past himself, he saw the suffering in others as well. He had heard about Mrs. Weasleys' brothers being killed, about Neville's parents. He knew they suffered a similar anguish to the way he did, but to think that <em>Malfoy<em> suffered one as equally horrid on the other side had thrown him off completely. To realize that people on both sides of the war, no matter what they believed and who they fought for were suffering increased his bitter resentment against Voldemort.

To think that maybe if Pureblood supremacy hadn't been riled up by Voldemort's rise, maybe wizarding society could have progressed, and he could have been friends with Draco Malfoy...to think of such an alternative world made Harry's heart ache. Where he would have parents to go back home to, where his friends were considered equal by all in the society, and where his _enemy _(it seemed rather wrong to call him that now), could have been just a boy he had grown up with...the life he lived in now was just _so wrong._

Ron was facing similar issues, with thoughts of his family. He had always resented the Malfoys, with the way that Lucius had tormented and ridiculed his father throughout the years. And then to think that the boy he had grown up hating was just as lost, just as hurt by the war as he and his family was... He didn't know what to say. What if _he_ had been in Malfoy's position? Could he have walked away from his father and his family's ideals? To think about even turning away from his mother and rejecting her ached his heart. To see his father's hateful gaze as he walked to the other side was unimaginable. He had seen a snippet with the incident with Percy, but to be subjected to it himself...A surge of pity rose up within him for Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't have been able to do it, to betray his family, even if he knew they were on the wrong side. To think that Malfoy was doing so, willingly walking away so that he could protect them from Voldemort in the end, refusing to kill Muggles...he wouldn't call it brave or courageous, as there was definitely selfish intent behind some of the actions, but it was so dangerously close in such a sneaky way. It changed everything.

And Hermione strode confidently between the conflicted boys, knowing the truth and embracing her part in it. They were one of the last to enter the Potions classroom and took the empty table at the back.

"Ahh, come in come in. I trust that we are all here now?" Slughorn grinned at the class. "Now who here can tell me about Golpalott's Third Law? Ah- Miss Granger, of course!" Hermione had once again been the only one who had raised her hand. She recited the law at top speed, losing everybody in the classroom except for Slughorn.

"Ahh, that is correct Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn grinned. "I was saving this particular potion for after Christmas Break, but this class has been rather exceptional in potion making, so I decided to move our curriculum up to have some more difficult material earlier on."

Ron groaned and glared at Harry and Hermione, obviously the ones Slughorn had been referring to with those 'exceptional in potion making.' Harry smiled sheepishly back at him and Hermine rolled her eyes, muttering to herself about stupid boys.

"Now, we will be creating an antidote for the poisons today. Everybody, come take a vial from my cabinet and make an antidote for it by the end of class." Hermione was already walking back with a vial when Harry and Ron had registered that they were actually starting something.

Thirty minutes into class, both Harry and Ron were lost to the point that not even the Prince could help them, while Hermione cheerfully brewed her cauldron, smug with the fact that they couldn't cheat for this assignment. When she risked a glance at Malfoy however, she noticed his now common distant stare, his cauldron practically empty, having nothing other than the potion received dumped into it. Frowning, she walked around the classroom under the pretense of gathering another ingredient and glanced more carefully into his cauldron. Rummaging through the cabinet behind Malfoy, she discretely cast Scarpin's Revelaspell nonverbally, figuring out the ingredients needed for his potion within seconds. And within minutes, she had gathered them from the cabinet, facing Malfoy from behind.

Pretending to stumble, she fell to the floor beside Malfoy, gathering the Slytherins' attention to her. Brushing off her robes, she stood up, hands empty of any ingredients, smiling embarrasedly. "Cut up the ingredients and stir the cauldron with your wand for fifteen minutes. Make sure to add the bat spleen at the end so that it will show maximum efficiency" she rambled quickly under her breath as she passed by him. Draco gave no indication that he had heard her, but when she had gotten back to her seat, she risked a glance at him and caught his eyes watching her impassively, curiously.

Looking back down at her cauldron, she cursed, attracting Harry and Ron's attention.

"I burned the main ingredient because I didn't stir it long enough while leaving it to brew" she blushed from embarrassment as Harry and Ron shared a shocked glance, having never heard of Hermione doing this before. She dumped out her cauldron and started over again with the remaining poison from the ville that she had saved.

"And..times up!" Slughorn bellowed, and everyone rushed to pack in last minute ingredients, trying to look passable. Hermione was extremely frazzled, her actions working twice as fast for having to redo her potion. It was well below her usual work, and if she had only had more time...

Slughorn passed by, staring into her cauldron. "Well, Miss Granger, not your finest work, but it is passable. If you had perhaps worked a bit faster..." She frowned in disappointment at herself. When Slughorn burst out laughing at Harry's idea of using a bezoar, Hermione glared at him. She held her breath when he walked by Malfoy's cauldron.

"It is passbale" he merely said and continued on. Hermione felt extreme rage build in her at that moment. It was _passable? _She had given him the best instructions, and she knew Malfoy was capable enough to pull it off; he _had_ made it to Advanced Potions mostly on his own after all. How had she never noticed this before? Slughorn was so completely prejudiced, it was vile. Of course, his prejudice had resulted from fear of association with Death Eaters, but to immediately categorize Draco as one just because...

Her thoughts trailed off as she felt an arm brush her elbow as the students filed out. "Meet me in the empty classroom down the hall, to the right, two doors on the left side" a masculine voice whispered in her ear. She gasped a breath of surprise and stood still in her spot as the room emptied.

* * *

><p>The trio stood at the end of the corridor, staring into the empty hall. "So which classroom did he say again?" Ron asked Hermione. She pointed to the second door on the left with pursed lips, her hands quivering slightly from nerves. While she had been rather excited that he had sought her out at first, it soon grew into nervousness when her mind calculated all the different things he could say. What if he didn't want her to help him? What if he thought she was overstepping her boundaries?<p>

"We're coming with you" She heard Harry declare, and panic rose within her. "No!" She yelled out before she could think further. While she was nervous about speaking to him, she knew that bringing the boys would _definitely_ rile him up.

"Harry, I know you want to help. But, you're not the best person for this." Harry's eyebrows furrowed, a flash of hurt crossing his eyes.

"I care too Hermione. It's not just you who's being affected by the war" He whispered darkly, holding in his growing anger.

Hermione calmed at Harry's angered expression, her eyes once again filled with compassion. "Oh, Harry. That's not what I mean. It's just that...you're his rival. Everything he did in Hogwarts was trying to best you in something."

"Yeah, it was rather annoying at first, but it just became plain pathetic as the years went by" Ron muttered, still somewhat bitter towards Malfoy.

"And can't you guess why he never stopped trying to beat Harry? I think you'd understand it well Ron" Hermione spoke softly, her heart reaching out to both Draco and Ron at the moment.

Ron flushed in embarrassment. Having five older brothers, Ron had constantly tried to be the best at something, anything, to prove himself within his family. All the times that he'd taunted Malfoy...

"He's just been trying to impress his father." Harry said it out loud, and Ron's eyes went to his shoes from shame as Hermione nodded slowly.

"..I think Hermione should talk to him alone" both Hermione and Harry turned towards Ron, their expressions of shock. Hermione was first to recover and she threw her arms around the tall redhead, grinning. Harry blinked and sputtered, but didn't say anything to argue.

"Thank you so much for understanding" Hermione bit her lip and smiled as she drew away. Ron rolled his eyes and quirked a smile back at her. "Come on Harry, let's go. We'll see you at dinner Hermione?" She nodded enthusiastically as they turned to leave.

As soon the elation from Ron's words wore off, the nerves came back, and she gathered her thoughts and courage quickly and strode forward, pushing her way into the room. The door creaked in and an image of Draco leaning against a desk faced her. His bowed head quirked up and his gray eyes gazed at into hers.

"Oh good, you didn't bring Potter and Weasley" She frowned at his tone. He hadn't been so ready to talk and wasn't quite so irked earlier. The aura of the room changed as she felt his ire, and a sense of dread weighed into her chest. She took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when she saw his expression darken. "What's wrong, Draco?"

That seemed to snap him completely. "Don't call me that" he hissed, his face scrunching up in pain. "You - you don't deserve to call me by my name. You're _supposed_ to be a _**mudblood**_" Her eyes saddened at his anguish.

"_Supposed_ to be?" She asked calmly, resignedly.

"**Yes,** _Granger. _You're not -"

"Hermione."

"**Granger**" He stated firmly, refusing to budge.

"Hermione."

"No,_ shut up_. What are you _doing_ to me? I'm not supposed to be this..what I'm thinking, it's _disgraceful_. And you-_you_" He was starting to ramble and she stood silently, watching him with patient eyes.

"What are you not supposed to be, Draco?" His confused and pained eyes stared into hers, asking for her to answer for him. He didn't know.

"A blood traitor?" He jerked at the words, his body slumping. "A muggle lover?" His hands clenched the desk behind him painfully.

"_Stop." _He shook his head, trying to clear her words. "I can't listen to your lies. What are you doing to me? I'm not supposed to be-"

"You're not _supposed_ to be **anything,** Draco" Hermione cut in, wanting to have a say before he started to yell irrationally.

"Yeah? You don't know anything, you _mudblood bitch_" but before he could continue, she had slapped him in the face, her emotions bubbling again. He was not getting anywhere with conflicting thoughts of his own. She needed to lay it out flat and clear for him to understand what he needed.

"You think you're the only one who's affected by the war? That you're the only one suffering from threats by Voldemort?" He flinched at the name.

"I have to be scared everyday for my parents, wondering if Death Eaters might show up one day and kill them. Every single muggleborn here has to wonder if it's worth coming to Hogwarts to place dangers on their family. There are already people that have been lost in this war, Draco. I don't want to see anybody murdered anymore. I don't want _you_ to murder anyone. I don't want you to make that choice. _Please_" She had shoved him in the chest in the process of her rant, and her fist remained bunched in his jumper as she pleaded with him.

"Let go of me" hissed Draco. The heavy weight of failure weighed into her chest and her hand bunched his shirt harder, her head lowering. Hair framing her face, she faced the floor with her tear filled eyes. "_Please_."

She felt his hands remove her's from his jumper, and she stood still as she felt him walk out and slam the door behind him. Flinching at the loud bang, her eyes closed tightly shut. "_please."_

* * *

><p>The days passed, and both Ron and Harry knew that the talk with Malfoy hadn't gone well, with both of them being distant in class, and with Hermione's increased visits to the library to be in isolation. Neither said a word towards her, knowing well that throwing herself into books was what usually brought on her most brilliant answers. They weren't sure how Hermione could find a solution to Malfoy's problems in text, but being Hermione, they figured she eventually would.<p>

Hermione sat in silence, the library devoid of any student but her, as Christmas break was approaching the next day. Nobody was in the library and studying the day before break, well, nobody but Hermione of course. To say she was studying for class was pretentious however. After her spat with Malfoy, she had looked towards her constant source of knowledge she could depend on; books. She had started with the Pureblood history books, such as _Magical Families: A Guide to Ancient Traditions _ and even recent articles such as _Magical Science: Is There Truth to Magical Blood?_ in hopes of finding an argument, a belief that could help Draco understand her point of view, to clarify what he was feeling and to ultimately protect him from making a big mistake.

So engrossed in the modern article, she didn't bother looking up when she heard a scrape of a chair across her, passing it off as some random student wanting to share a table with her in the lonely library. She heard a bit of shuffling for a few seconds, but soon, all was silent and she continued her reading, assuming the person across her had as well. Almost an hour passed as she perused the paper, and only when she put it aside to pick up the next book did she look up. Freezing, she stared into familiar gray eyes once again, his face expressionless.

"Draco" He didn't say anything. "What are you doing here?" She asked in genuine confusion. She had assumed that after Christmas Break, she would have to go actively looking for him and drag him to listen to her words. Never had she expected that _he_ would come looking for_ her_. Allowing him to say his share, she watched quietly as he struggled to speak.

"I'm going home for Christmas break" He stated. She spotted the subtleties in his question. He didn't want to apologize, but coming back _was_ apologizing. By talking to her and fraternizing with her, he was accepting that he wasn't a muggle hater. She had called him all the words he was so afraid of being associated with, and by coming back, he was...he wasn't accepting that he was the definition of those words, but it was the beginning of acceptance.

She smiled tiredly at him. "Yeah, me too." He glanced down at the article that she was reading and she glanced down as well. _Magical Science: Is There Truth to Magical Blood? A Study of Wizard and Muggle DNA._

"What's DNA?" He asked, as he reached forward to grab the article and peruse it. A smile grew unto her face as she watched him read.

"You see, in the Muggle world, they study science in a different way. They look at genetic material in our bodies, that every living organism has, and study it to see which gene causes different traits in..." It was so magnificent to see the spark of intellect and wonder grow in his eyes as she taught him the basics of genetic material. Leaning forward, she flipped a few pages into the article and pointed out a section comparing Muggle and Wizard DNA. "Considering that Muggles and Wizards can reproduce together suggests that there is very minute differences in the DNA that don't count enough to cause speciation between them. While Wizards can consider themselves superior, the truth is that other than a few unidentified differences, they are essentially the same" She paraphrased, pointing to a diagram.

She expected him to cut her off when she explained how Wizards were essentially Muggles with a few genetic variations, but he seemed genuinely interested to learn the material, and her knowledgeable mind rambled off everything she knew, and he absorbed it all. Pulling out more books, she flipped to a few more pages, pointing out observations made from hundreds of years ago, about Wizards and Muggles and the similarities between them, and he piped in with a few questions every once in a while, asking for clarification or details. Her heart soared at the open mindedness he was willing to show, and while she wondered what had brought it on, she was grateful for whatever it was, because it had brought him back. _To her_.

It was late at night when they both left the library. She walked amicably beside a somewhat stoic Draco with a bounce in her step from happiness and accomplishment. When the corridor split towards the Gryffindor common room and the hall leading to the stairs, she turned to face him cheerfully.

"I'll see you soon?" The words slipped out before she could think about their implications. She tensed as he stood there silently.

He smiled weakly down at her and nodded slowly. "Yeah...I'd like that." Her heart leapt to her throat as he turned quickly and disappeared down the corridor. That was more than she had _expected_, but as her heart pounded in excitement at his words, it seemed that it was exactly what she had _wanted_. And when she bit her lip in happiness and almost skipped down the hall, her mind didn't think about what this now meant, too busy leaping off into thoughts about their next meeting.

* * *

><p><strong><em> It takes courage to discover our center of our being and to learn how to live from the inside. Through our self-awareness, we choose our actions, and therefore we can partially create our own destiny.<em>**

* * *

><p>I feel as if some of this chapter is some of my best works, and other parts..not so much. Do you guys like where this is going? Tell me what you think, your words are much appreciated :)<p> 


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